Should I Go
by Ali Ami Umi
Summary: After a horrific accident, Alison is left to contemplate wether or not to stay in this life, or go. The doctor's say she might not be able to walk, or even remember anything. So in 24 hours thinking back on past experiences with her yami and fellow hikaris, she makes one of the hardest decisions of her life. Slight OOC, AU, OCs
1. Chapter 1

Should I Go

**8:24 AM**

Some people say it was because of the rain. And in a way, I suppose that's true.

I wake up this morning to rain pattering against the window. It isn't a heavy rain, but with all the rain we had already gotten this week, it was probably enough to make the roads flood a bit, or at least create some huge puddles.

If only it was enough to cancel my orthodontist appointment. I would have to bike there, the car had gotten a flat tire the night before from a prank gone wrong, so the only mode of transportation was my good ol' mountain bike.

I climb down from the top of the bunk bed and slam a pillow against my sleeping yami, attempting to rouse her from sleep.

"A.J! Wakey wakey!" Another smack with a pillow.

"Mrph, shut uuuup…" She moaned, shielding herself with her own pillow "Just because you have an appointment this morning doesn't mean that I have to get up too…"

"I'm just waking you up nicely before Ryou gets to you. It's cleaning day, and you know how pissy he can get when someone isn't helping." I reminded her.

A.J groans again before rolling over and untangling herself from her sheets.

"You're one to talk." She muttered before heading into the closet to grab her clothes.

Thirty minutes later we were both dressed, her for cleaning, myself for the rain, and sitting at the dining table eating homemade crepes compliments of Ryou.

"Thank you Chef Ryou." A.J chided in a sing song voice to spite him. Ryou rolled his eyes and set a jar of Nutella on the table, which I gladly took.

"Morning, ladies." Yami said when he walked downstairs. Normally Yugi would be right behind him, most likely bleary eyed and still in his jim jams, but he was at a four day Duel Monsters tournament. He was staying at a hotel, but today was the last day and he would be back in three days because he would undoubtably have to stay for the two day after celebration.

Just thinking of Yugi brought a kind of sad smile to my face. With him gone, I had no one to really talk to except for A.J, and that was a rare thing because Bakura had become fairly possessive of her recently.

Alright, I'll admit, I also miss having him to cuddle and watch movies with but thats entirely besides the point.

Just as Ryou was about to turn on the stereo, a shout from the game room was heard.

"They're all awake! Turn on the sound!" and the sound of gunfire and battle blared through the house.

"Were they awake all night?" Yami asked, taking some jam and putting it on his own crepes.

"Judging by the fact that all the Redbull is gone, I'd say yes." Ryou sighed. "Alison? Do you think you could pick up some more on your way home from the orthodontist?"

"I'll do my best." I said.

"Are you sure you want to go out? The rain looks horrible." A.J asked, slowly but surely waking up more. "It'd be bad if you got hurt."

"Well I can't cancel, I've got a broken bracket. And maybe if someone hadn't filled the car tire with bloody _explosives _I wouldn't have to bike." I told him, adding emphasis so Bakura and Malik could hear. I heard DDR start up, letting us all know that Marik was with them.

"Just be careful." A.J cautioned before taking a bite of her strawberry crepe.

"I will." I could've taken one of our motorcycles, but I had a deathly fear of them. Plus, I'd never had a lesson so I'd probably end up crashing.

"Oh, Alison, read section 2C. Theres a blurb on that tournament Yugi is in." said Ryou, tossing me the paper. I caught it and started riffling through the paper until I found it. There was a picture of Yugi standing with his Duel Disk along with four other people looking ready to duel with the headline "Let the Championship Begin!"

"Oh you could totally kick those hipster's asses. Geez, though, you might wanna lay off on the tournaments or something. 'Specially Yugi. We shouldn't draw that much attention to ourselves." said A.J.

It was true. We were an odd example of a family, and our situation wasn't exactly easily explainable. Plus, we might get a nice little trip to the FBI headquarters or something if they found out that A.J, Yami, Bakura, were all 5,000 year old souls, Malik was born from Marik's mind, that they all had an odd power or so, and we could all communicate through a mind link. It was limited, us hikaris could only communicate with our yami, and for some reason A.J could communicate with Bakura, her boyfriend, but it was effective.

"Like you don't enjoy the thrill of winning a tournament." I said back.

"I _can't _when you and your boyfriend join in. Seriously, let us have a chance."

This caused me to blush, because it was still odd to think about it. Me. With a _boy friend. _

"You two, keep eating before it gets cold because reheated crepes taste horrible. Alison, might wanna eat fast if you want to make it to your appointment. Bakura! Malik! Marik! I've got a veggie omelet and bacon ready!"

That was all it took for the war noises and DDR machine to stop and have the three charging into the kitchen. Bakura and Malik started eating the bacon right off of the pan, and were quickly joined by Yami.

"Animals." Marik muttered before sitting down and pouring salt on his vegetarian omelet.

If it wasn't for Ryou, this whole family would probably fall apart. He was the only one of us who could cook decently, he certainly knew how to motivate us to clean up (some of us have the bruises to prove it) and could generally dissolve any fight that was going on.

We certainly were a bunch of misfits, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

**9:02 AM**

"Be careful." A.J cautioned as I headed for the garage to grab my bike. My white turtleneck would provide warmth for at least a little while, and the peacoat I wore was to keep me dry. I knew it wasn't the best attire for the rain, but it'd have to do. My raincoat had vanished a few months prior, and I was kind of scared of where it might've gone. I snapped my helmet on and hopped on my bike, the garage door opening.

"I will be." I smiled at her. The rain had turned into a downright downpour during breakfast, and I could barely see out of our driveway.

"You better be. Don't forget the Redbull! " She gave me an over the top wave before heading back inside.

I shiver as a single raindrop manages to get through my outfit and slide down my spine. I kick off as the light turns green, gradually gaining speed. The pounding of rain provides white noise, which is good because I wasn't going to risk my iPod in this weather. I was definitely right about huge puddles. These were big enough to fill a kiddie pool with.

I cautiously rode through them, determined not to have it splash up and get my jeans all wet. Though I stupidly forgot about the sink hole.

The sink hole was one of the largest I'd ever seen, and with the rain I guessed it'd go halfway up my tires. I didn't know why the city didn't fix it, budget costs they said, but all I knew is that I was stuck. To the right of the sink hole was a 10 foot drop to the foot trail below, and to the left was the expressway, where traffic would be coming my way. Well, I hadn't seen any cars in that direction up until this point, so I went for it. Going as fast as I could, I made it around the hole and the huge puddle before pulling onto the middle divider and leaning against a tree. I had broken into the London Natural History Museum, had my soul taken, and gone back to Ancient Egypt, but riding in the wrong side of the expressway was enough to get my heart pounding. I started biking again on the right side, gripping the handlebars tighter as my wheels attempted to go in different directions on the slick pavement.

You wouldn't have expected the bell to remain intact, but it does.

My bike is totaled. The impact of a four-ton pick up truck going forty miles an hour plowing nearly straight onto it had the force of an atom bomb. The handlebars were snapped in half, the left one torn off and had gone flying into a tree, the front tire being reduced to the size of a small personal pizza. It left the rest of the bike crumpled, looking like some cheap model that a kid stepped on. The back tire was cut completely in half, possibly from the seat that was ripped to shreds, and the main frame looked as though it had been through a war-zone. Twice.

And there was so much noise. Tearing, shredding, breaking, snapping, grinding, popping, and finally the high pitched tone of the bell bouncing and rolling along the pavement until it fell and grew still. I guess it flew off with the momentum.

At first I figure everything is fine, and I'm alright. I could still see my completely mangled bike, and hear the little bell, and I start laughing. I must've jumped on instinct the second I heard tires screech and made it off okay. When I look down, the skinny jeans, peacoat, and rain boots I put on this morning all look the same as they did when I left the house. I sit up from the mud patch and made my way over to the wreckage.

My first thought was how much it was going to cost to get it replaced. Money was scarce in our family, even though we lived in a mansion, so it'd probably result in another bargain and duel with Kaiba. That, or A.J was going to have to break out her five-finger discount again. I looked to the left and saw something lying next to the sinkhole. I quickly ran over, but when I get closer I see the glint of a silver charm bracelet with Duel Monsters on it and stop. Yugi gave it to me for Christmas. It's _my _bracelet. I was wearing it this morning. I look down at my wrist. I'm _still _wearing it now.

I edge closer and now I know it's not a piece of bike or random stranger lying there. It's me. The blood from my chest has seeped through my pants and under my peacoat and was now quickly being washed away by the rain. One of my legs is askew, the skin and muscle peeled away so that I can see white streaks of bone. Both of them look broken. My brown eyes are closed, and my dark brown hair is wet and rusty with blood. Theres a deep cut on my forehead thats pouring blood into my hair.

I spin away. This isn't right. This cannot be happening. I was just a girl, biking to her orthodontist appointment. I must have fallen asleep for a second. _No! Stop. Please stop. Please wake up! _I scream into the chilly air. It's cold. My breath should fog. It doesn't. I stare down at my wrist, the one that looks fine, untouched by blood and gore, and pinch as hard as I can.

I don't feel a thing.

I have nightmares often- going-to-a-tournament-without-having-my-own-deck nightmares, Dartz's-return nightmares, dead-family nightmares- but I have almost always been able to command myself to open my eyes, to lift my head from the pillow, to halt the horror movie playing behind my closed lids.

_Wake up! _I scream. _Wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakeup! _But I can't. I don't.

I hear a muffled song playing, and realize it's Minute in G. The other driver must have it playing. I concentrate on that. Taking a deep breath, I finger the notes with my hands, as I often do out of habit. Yugi calls it "air violin." He's always joking that we should do a duet together, him on air guitar, me on air violin. "When we're done we can trash out air instruments," he jokes "You know you want to."

I play, just focusing on that, until the last note plays, and the music vanishes.

Just a few minutes after that, the sirens come.

**9:23 AM**

_Am I dead?_

I actually have to ask myself this.

_Am I dead?_

At first it seemed obvious that I am. That the standing-here-watching part was temporary, an intermission before the bright light and the life-flashing-before-me business that would transport me to wherever I'd go next.

Except the paramedics are here now, along with the police and fire department. There seems to be a rookie fireman, couldn't be older than eighteen, who was listening intently to another much older fireman.

But am I dead? The me who is lying on the road, dragged out of the sinkhole, is surrounded by a team of men and women who are preforming frantic ablutions over me and plugging my veins with I do not know what. I'm half naked, the paramedics having ripped open the top of my turtleneck. One of my breasts is exposed. Embarrassed, I look away.

The police have lit flares along the perimeter of the scene and are instructing what few cars there are in both directions to turn back, the road is closed. The police politely offer alternate routes, back roads that will take people where they need to be.

They must have places to go, the people in the few cars that are passing by, but they don't turn back. They climb out of their cars, slipping on raincoats or hugging themselves against the cold. They appraise the scene. And then they look away, some of them crying. One woman is throwing up on the side of the road. And even though they don't know who I am or what happened, they pray for me. I can feel them praying.

Which also makes me think I'm dead. That and the fact my body seems to be completely numb, although to look at me, at the leg that the asphalt exfoliant has pared down to the bone and snapped, I should be in agony. And I'm not crying, either, even though I _know _that something unthinkable just happened.

I'm pondering these things when the medic with freckles and red hair who has been working on me answers my question. "Her Glasgow Coma is an eight! Let's bag her now!" She screams. She and the lantern-jawed medic snake a tube down my throat, attach a bag with a bulb to it, and start pumping. "Whats the ETA for Life Flight?

"Ten minutes," answers the medic. "It takes twenty to get to the highway."

"We're going to get her there in fifteen if you have to speed like a fucking demon."

I can tell what the guy is thinking. That it wont do me any good if they get into a crash, and I have to agree. But he doesn't say anything. Just clenches his jaw. They load me into the ambulance; the red-head climbs into the back with me. She pumps my bag with one hand, adjusts my IV and my monitors with the other. Then she smoothes my short lock of hair from my forehead.

"You hang in there," she tells me.

AN: Yes, the majority of the time crossovers between our house and whatever I'm watching/reading are what I think about. Based off of _If I Stay_ by Gayle Foreman


	2. Chapter 2

If I Stay

I played in my first tournament when I was eight. I'd been dueling for four years at that point. At first, just with my friends, for fun. Or with A.J when I was alone. It was a coincidence that I was even into Duel Monsters. But I had been at a game store to buy something on my own for the first time, and a starter pack of cards just called to me. They were tucked away in a corner, the more extravagant and colorful games that kids wanted to play were up front.

Pathetic decks I had made at first, no theme and packing too many monsters and too little traps, made way to more adequate decks until I had a top tier deck.

Over the years I'd dueled plenty of people, even joining clubs on dueling at local high schools. There was a laugh from them when I first walked in holding my deck and clutching my cartouche, but that soon stopped once I began trumping them. This continued until eighth grade, when A.J and I moved in with everyone else.

My first tournament, though, happened years before we met them. It was at a convention room at the local museum, a place that normally housed anime conventions or extra exhibits, so the glaring lights and the sheer size was intimidating on it's own. I was running my "Fairy" deck at the time.

Standing on the wings watching others practice dueling with each other, I'd almost chickened out. I'd ran outside and huddled on the stoop, hyperventilating into my hands.

A.J, in spirit form, sat next to me. She was 8 months younger than me in this lifetime, but during the gap between late March and early June, we were the same age. Plus, her soul had a good 5,000 years on mine.

"You okay, Ali?" She asked.

I shook my head, too ashamed to talk.

"Whats up?"

"I can't do it," I cried.

A.J cocked an eyebrow and stared at me with her hazel eyes that matched my own. I felt like a mysterious foreign species she was observing and trying to figure out. She'd always been confident dueling, and had even dueled to save her life back in Egypt. Obviously, she _never _got something as lame as stage fright.

"Well, that'd be a shame," she said "Theres a great tournament present for you at home. Better than flowers."

"Give it to someone else. I can't go out there. I'm not like you,"

"Well thank Ra for that because then you'd probably have blown up the place in your panic."

I laughed through my tears. A.J put a transparent arm around my shoulder. "You know, it's okay to be nervous or scared." She told me. "Ra knows I was plenty of times."

I looked at A.J, who had always seemed to be absolutely confident with everything she did.

"It's true. I mean, when you're dueling for your life it's pretty nervous making. But even now, it's totally okay to be scared. You're, like, one of the only girls here and you're eight! It's pretty justified that you're nervous."

"What did you do to get over being nervous?" I asked her.

"Well, back then you could take a swig of henquet without a big deal. But nowadays they frown upon drunk minors. You modern people are so stuck up like that."

At this point I was laughing. I was still scared, but it was a bit comforting to think that my brave and strong yami also got the jitters. Maybe I wasn't so strange.

"What if I muck up? What if I'm terrible?"

"Heres some news for you, Ali. Theres going to be all kinds of terrible out there, so you wouldn't really stand out. Well, you might stand out for kicking everyone's arses at only eight years old, but it'd also give you some leeway even if you do muck up.

"But, you're my hikari. You're going to do just fine."

"But really, how do you get over the jitters?"

A.J was still smiling, but I could tell she had turned serious because she slowed down her speech.

"You don't. You just work through it. You hang in there."

So I went on. I didn't win every game, but I didn't lose nearly as often or as badly as I thought I would. And after the tournament, I got my present. It was lying on my bed, looking as sleek and elegant as a dancer and almost human-like. A Duel Disk. Not a rental like I'd been using. It was mine.

**10:12 AM**

When my ambulance got to the nearest hospital, the medics rush me inside. "I think we've got a collapsed lung. Get a chest tube in her and move her out!" the nice red-haired medic shouts as she passes me off to a team of nurses and doctors.

They take me into a small room with bright lights. A doctor dabs some orange stuff onto the side of my chest and then rams a small plastic tube in me. Another doctor shines a flashlight into my eye. "Non-responsive," he tells the nurse. "The chopper's here. Get her to Trauma. Now!"

They rush me out of the ER and into the elevator. I have to jog to keep up. The elevator opens right onto the roof. A helicopter, its blades swooshing in the air, sits in the middle of a big red circle.

The hatch in the helicopter is opened, and my stretcher with all its tubes and lines is loaded in. I climb in behind it. A medic runs in next to m, still pumping the little plastic bulb that is apparently breathing for me. Once we lift off, theres an odd sense of calm.

Sure the helicopter is like a hockey puck, bouncing through the sky. Up and down, side to side, the people reading printouts and communicating through head sets. But it's not as hectic as the ambulance ride or the accident scene, and for the first time I can actually think.

But it's not my own voice I hear in my head, it's A.J's.

_Alison! Answer me! Where are you?_

_I'm fine, A.J. Or, at least, I think I am._ I think back to her. _Don't worry._

_Alison! Don't make me come looking for you. What the hell happened? Alison!_

_A.J? Can you hear me?_

A.J keeps shouting to me through the mind link, and no matter how loudly I shout back, she can't seem to hear me.

Eventually I close it so I can't hear her panicking anymore. It takes a lot to freak A.J out, and right now she's practically hysterical. It's hard to listen too.

The helicopter makes an air pocket that should've made even me queazy, but I don't feel anything. At least, me as a bystander doesn't. Me on the stretcher doesn't seem to feel anything either. Again, I gave to wonder if I'm dead. Then I tell myself no. They would not have loaded me onto this helicopter, wouldn't be flying me across cities if I were dead.

I can see the time on the control panel. It's 10:37. I wonder whats happening back down on the ground. Has A.J figured out what happened? Has she left to go find me? Is Ryou cleaning like normal or is the house put on pause because A.J told them something happened?

Outside the window, I can see Mount Animus looming. That means we're close to Colousa.

Thats where Yugi's tournament is. I was suppose to drive up to stay for a night to celebrate his victory early (because he'd undoubtably win). He knew I'd probably have to catch a train because of last night's prank.

Before the Championships begin, Yugi will go outside to wait for me to show up. At first, he'll think I'm late. How would he know that I was actually early. That I got to Calousa when the rain was still drying?

t

It took me a while to notice that I liked Yugi. At first, it seemed like we just hit it off really well and were in sync. We helped each other with simple tasks like putting on jackets or brushing hair out of faces, and were just used to physical contact from the other such as hanging off of their back or leaning on them when we were tired.

I thought of us like a best friend unit. Almost inseparable, with inside jokes and finishing each other's sentences, but nothing more than that.

It wasn't until about two months after we moved in that I noticed my feelings toward Yugi grow into something more.

It happened about a month and a half before we started dating, after a tournament that I had been a bystander at, and Yugi had a female duelist hitting on him. Normally, this didn't bug me. We'd joke about it afterwards, saying we were married to our decks or something like that. But this time, it stirred jealousy in me. She was really pretty, and I could tell her attention was making Yugi flustered. I subconsciously made comparisons of her to me, a bad habit I picked up in elementary school.

When she asked Yugi out to dinner, I almost felt like dragging him away. I thought he was going to say yes, but surprised me when he said

"No, sorry, I'm having dinner with my friend Alison."

I probably gave the biggest shit eating grin at that moment when Yugi lead me away with a "Lets get out of here" under his breath. I gave one more smile to the duelist before turning around.

Yugi and I ended up wandering around the Japan town in the city during a light drizzle. Not enough to soak you, but enough to make your hair cling to you (or just get shiny, in Yugi's case) and you feel a bit wet. We bought a cheap umbrella which we shared and a few Duel Monsters booster packs before settling into a restaurant and ordering some food. We had a window seat on the second story, and though it wasn't more than the store across the street, the increasingly heavy rain made for a pleasant view.

"That duelist was really pretty. Why'd you turn her down for a dinner with plain ol' me?" I joked, taking a bite out of a strip of Tonkatsu. Yugi shrugged, eating a California Roll before responding.

"I didn't notice. I was actually embarrassing how much she was… flirting." He said "Besides, you're a lot more interesting than any other duelist out there. I'd take dinner with you any day."

I was thankful that lightning flashed and there was a thunderclap at that moment to distract Yugi so that he wouldn't see my blush.

"Thanks, I'd take dinner with you any day too." I said. Yugi picked up a California Roll with chopsticks and offered it to me, which I gladly bit into.

"You really didn't notice that she was pretty? I'm not kidding, that girl was model material." I said through my mouthful.

"Why would I notice when…" He trailed off as another thunderclap sounded. He didn't finish his sentence, and instead took a sip of tea.

"When?" I prompted. He shook his head and said "Nothing," before reaching over and stealing a strip of Tonkatsu, successfully distracting me from the previous conversation.

"Hey, did I give you permission?"

"I let you have a California Roll!"

"Operative word: let,"

**12:19 PM**

There are a lot of things wrong with me.

Apparently, I have a collapsed lung. A ruptured spleen. Internal bleeding of unknown origin. And most serious, the contusions on my brain. I've also got broken ribs, two snapped legs, abrasions on my legs which will require skin grafts. I might also lose some of my memory if I wake up. But, as the doctors note, thats only if I'm lucky.

Right now, in surgery, the doctors have to remove my spleen, insert a tube to drain my collapsed lung, and stanch whatever else might be the cause of my internal bleeding. There isn't a lot they can do for my brain.

"We'll just wait and see," one of the surgeons says, looking over the CAT scan of my head "In the meantime, call down to the blood bank. I need two units of AB pos, and keep two units ahead."

AB positive. My blood type. I had no idea. It's not like it's something I've ever had to think about before. I've been to the hospital before, once for stitches, once for a snowboarding accident, and twice when I was really sick. But I'd never needed to know my blood type.

In the operating room, the doctors are debating on what music to play. One guy wants jazz, another wants pop. The anesthesiologist, who stands near my head, requests classical. I root for her, and I feel like that must help because someone pops on a Bach CD.

The operating room is small and crowded, full of blindingly bright lights, which highlight how grubby the place is. It's nothing like on TV, where operating rooms are pristine theaters that could accommodate an opera singer, and an audience. The floor, though buffed shiny, is dingy with scuff marks and rust streaks, which I take to be old bloodstains.

Blood. It's everywhere. It doesn't faze the doctors one bit. They slice and sew and suction through a river of it like they are washing dishes in soapy water. Meanwhile, they pump an ever-replenishing stock into my veins.

The surgeon who wanted to listen to rock sweats a lot. One of the nurses has to periodically dab him with gauze that she holds in tongs. At one point, he sweats through his mask and has to replace it.

The anesthesiologist has gentle fingers. She sits at my head, keeping an eye on all my vitals, adjusting the amounts of the guilds and gasses and drugs they're giving me. She must be doing a good job because I don't appear to feel anything. Even though they're yanking at my body. It's rough and messy work, nothing like that game operation we used to play as kids where you had to be careful and precise not to touch the sides or the buzzer would go off.

The anesthesiologist absentmindedly strokes my temples through her latex gloves. This is what Yugi does when I come down with the flu or have a headache and I'm confined to the couch for who knows how long.

The Bach CD has repeated twice now. The doctors decide it's time for a new genre. Jazz wins.

The operation goes on and on. I'm exhausted by it. I don't know how the doctors have the stamina to keep up. They're standing still, but it seems harder than running a marathon.

I start zoning out, and then I start to wonder about this state I'm in. If I'm not dead-and the heart monitor is bleeping along, so I assume I'm not-but I'm not in my body either, can I go anywhere? Am I a ghost? Could I transport myself to a beach in Hawaii? Can I pop over to London or Egypt?

Simply for the sake of experiment, I snapped my fingers. When that failed, I clicked my heels.

When that failed to do anything, I turned to the wall. I tried to walk through it, thinking I'd end up on the other side, but I ended up bumping into the wall.

A nurse comes in with a bag of blood, and before the door shuts behind her, I slip through it. Now I'm in the hospital corridor. There are lots of doctors and nurses in blue and green scrubs. A woman on a gurney, her hair in a gauzy blue shower cap, an IV in her arm, calls out "David, David." I walk a bit farther. There are rows of operating rooms, all full of sleeping people. If the patients inside these rooms are like me, why can't I see the people outside the people? Is everyone else loitering about like I seem to be? I'd really like to meet someone in my condition. I have some questions, like, what exactly is this state I'm in and how do I get out? How do I get back into my body? Do I have to wait for the doctors to wake me up? But no one else is around. Maybe the rest of them found out how to get to Hawaii.

I follow a nurse through a set of automatic double doors, and I'm in a small waiting room now.

As I walk in, I see A.J sitting in one of the old chairs. She's holding her head in her hands so I can't see her face. I walk closer to her and take a seat in the chair next to her, and I hear her muttering. I can't fully understand, so I open back up the mind link.

I'm in luck. She's talking to Bakura, but not bothering to block off her thoughts from me.

The mind link is like having a cellphone in your head, but it can only communicate with one person. Or, two in A.J's case. So I can't hear Bakura, and it's like listening to her talk on a phone while I'm in the room. I can only hear one side of the conversation.

_I'm in Calousa. Well, I had to break the speed limit a few times, but it's… I don't know. All the nurses will tell me is that she's in surgery right now. Yeah, get over here as fast as possible. … No, I'll get him. Just get here first so someone'll be here for updates. Yeah, I'm fine. Love you too._

When A.J's attention is fully back to reality, she sighs. Though she stares ahead at the magazine rack, I can hear her now talking to me through the mind link.

_What happened, Aibou? Can you give me some kind of answer? A sign that you're alright?_

_I'm trying, mou hitori no book. Can you hear me? _I say, both aloud and through the mind link. A.J just sighs.

_You better be okay. If you die on me I'm going to kill you. You think I want to wait another 5,000 years for your reincarnate to show up? I'm not that patient, you should know this. _

She then falls silent, but I can still hear her thoughts racing at a mile a minute.

Outwardly, though, she's as still as a statue. And that scares me more than anything else thats happened today


End file.
